86th Hunger Games
by MayTheOddsBeEverInYourFavor12
Summary: It's the 86th Hunger Games in the 12 Districts of Panem. 24 Brave and skillful tributes have been chosen to fight to the death. The tributes are trying to survive, of course, so will that stir up a rebellion? Thanks for submissions! RATING VARIES BY CHPT!


_**Ana Clove, Tribute 1; Female, 18.**_

_**Reaping Day, District 1**_

The sun's barely even up yet, and I'm already awake. This happens every Reaping Day for me. I guess my nerves just get too... _crazy_? I'm basically sitting up in bed right now, just watching the sun slowly rise past the trees. I don't know why, but I get a feeling. Whenever Reaping Day comes round, I feel ill. Maybe it's all in my head, but I really do.

But what do I have to worry about if I'm picked? I don't plan on making friends. I plan on staying alive. For years I've watched the Hunger Games, and every year I see how the Careers form. They all want the same thing. To be in the top six, at least. So they fight till then and then they kill each other off. But it isn't always the careers that win. Take Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Both district 12 winners of the 74th Hunger Games. They weren't Careers. Well, Peeta was, but only for a short time. I plan on being part of the Careers, but only for a short time. They work better together, and they're stronger together.

It'll come in handy too. I don't have many skills. My father was a victor years before. He's been training me in case I get reaped. But somehow I can't pick up any skills except knife-throwing, and I don't know how that will help me. I guarantee everyone will try to get their hands on a knife. Something sharp, and something they can easily throw.

No, I'm not going to tell you all about my life. Maybe not yet anyways. I don't have time to discuss my history. I have too many qualms about this Reaping today, and the last thoughts I want in my head are the pointless ones. A couple things you should know about me though are, I'm arrogant. I don't make nice with people too easily or often. I am funny, but so are a lot of people. I have my moments where I completely blank, but so do others. I love to laugh. Sure, maybe these traits don't exactly go together, but that's who I am, and I couldn't care less about what you think.

I drift in and out of sleep for the last couple of hours I have left. Breakfast-very small and not all filling-is very quiet between my father and I. I'm an only child and my mother's been dead for years. Yeah, so I'm telling you about me, like I said I wouldn't. It's the nerves.

My father tries to make light conversation, and I make no effort to answer his questions in more than three words minimum. I'm not one for much chatter, but if I get reaped, I guess I'll have to learn. I'll be talking more than I really want to. My father continues his attempts, and I try to answer as little as possible.

I have nothing to talk about right now. I just want to sit in silence, and pray I don't get into the Hunger Games. From what I've heard, each year-since the 74th Hunger Games-the games get more difficult, and challenging. I'm not one for praying, but if it helps me out the games period, then I'll pray as much as I can.

Finally as the District 1 Reaping begins, all the people gather in the center of our District, and await the tributes reapings. Effie Trinket-pink as ever-walks up the stage and to the center where she begins her practiced speech. "Welcome, welcome!" she says. "Before we begin the Reaping, let us listen to the message from our very own Capitol!" she says, smiling. As the message plays behind her on the large screen, she mouths the words to herself. The Capitol plays this video every year, showing us previous Hunger Games-leaving out the suicide attempt, or rebellion, of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark-and the ruins of District 13.

"_May the Odds be Ever in your Favor_," the message concluds. I roll my eyes, but avoid scoffing. "Shall we begin?" Effie asks us. _Like we have a choice_, I think bitterly. "Ladies first, hm?" she says. She walks over to the small glass dome that holds all the girls' names in District 1. I close my eyes and hold my breath, praying silently.

But the Odds, this time, are _not_ in my favor.

_"Ana Clove!" _Effie Trinket calls, smiling. All eyes turn to me, and I suddenly feel like shrinking into the ground. I want the earth to swallow me whole, and just keep me there until this is all over. But I told myself I would win. So, with that in my head, I stick my chin into the air, a graceful smile on my lips, and walk up the platform to stand before my District.

_**Alexander Miran, Tribute 2; Male, 18**_

_**Reaping Day, District 1**_

_Crunch!_

There goes another animal, fallen dead into the leaves left behind from last fall. I run to it, my great-grandfather's sword at hand. As I come up to the animal, I see exactly where Annabelle, my 12-year-old sister, hit it. She's quite skilled with a bow and arrow-my father taught her since today will be her first time in the Reaping. She's hit the fawn square in the eye, and now all we have to do is take it home to father and help him skin it.

District 1 is quite glamorous, for we make the luxury that goes to the Capitol, but that doesn't mean we're above all the other districts. Like I said, we aren't allowed to have any of the objects we make. They all go to the Capitol as decoration. So, like all other districts-so I've heard-we starve. We hunt, trap, fish, and all else. It's how we survive. It's like first-nature, survival.

Unless you're in the Hunger Games. Then it's every man for himself. If you have a weakness, no matter what it is, it's held against you. You have to fight to win. Nobody stays an alliance for long. If I'm reaped-which I haven't been, obviously-then I plan to stay alive and win. My grandfather's getting older, and he's finding it hard to take care of Annabelle alone. Therefore, it's my job. We're very much alike, so we get on quite well. And we're the only two each other has.

"How'd I do, Alex?" Ana asks. "Pretty damn good," I say. She gives me a stern look-I forgot about swearing in front of her is a no-go. "You did good," I say. She smiles and says, "Thank you, but next time it's I did _well_." "You and your grammar," I say. "Well, it helps," she says. "When?" I ask.

She doesn't answer, but comes up to the fawn to inspect it. It's small, so it shouldn't be hard for me to carry it back home without witnesses. Nobody here would really tell anyway. Just about everyone hunts out of bounds. Not many animals come through the districts. So we poach. It's poach or we find them charred to death on the live wire fences Ana and I sneak past everyday.

This is how I take my mind off the Hunger Games every Reaping Day. I spend my last few hours-if I get picked at all-going through my daily routine. If life continues on normal for a while, Ana and I have nothing to worry about.

For a while anyway.

As I pick up the fawn, I hold it in place so that Ana can remove the protruding arrow from it's left eye. She's not the kind of girl who finds this disgusting. In fact, she finds it perfectly normal, and so do I. It's apart of our lives. We've only known starvation and survival since we could walk.

As we make our way back home, Ana and I play a game we'd made when we were younger. Everytime a Mockingjay flew by, you had to sing a tune, doesn't matter what. If that tune reached the ears of someone else, and they responded back, you won. It was very difficult because many ignored the calls of the Mockingjays, so by the time we get back home, more often than not, no one wins.

It's still a fun game.

Grandfather is proud of us as we show him the fawn. He praises Ana for her first perfect hit on a larger animal-she's only hit birds and squirrels before. Much harder targets, except the same can be said for deers, because the slightest move can make them run. We skin the deer and pack it away for dinner.

When Ana and I go out back to our broken down tire-swings, Ana says, "Do you think I'll get reaped?" I look at her and say, "Probably not. It's your first year, Ana. Your name will only be submitted once. Just don't take out any tesserae." She nods her head. "Do you think _you_'ll get reaped?" "Why so many questions?" I laugh. "I guess I'm just nervous," she replies. "Well don't be," I say.

"I'm glad to see your calm," she says after a long pause. "What do you mean?" I ask. I know what she means, but I'm just hoping I'm wrong. She's always looked after me since Mom died. Sometimes I loose it completely when I think of my parents. Ana is the only one who can bring me out of it. I'm thankful for her, too.

That's why I try my best to keep her safe. "You know what I mean, Alex. I see it in your eyes," she said. "Well, I guess I am. But they haven't been on my mind," I say. "Good. Look, Alex if you... if you _do_ get reaped. Try not to think of them... you know I won't be there with you if you get picked," she says.

"You worry too much," I say, smiling a bit. She cracks a smile and that's when we hear it. The calling. We make our way round the front, and we see all the people in District 1 make their way to the center of our "town"-of course, that's not really what we would call the District.

Effie stands in front of us, and she announces the message from the Capitol, and we watch the films playing on behind her. When they end, she says, "Ladies first, hm?" and as she picks out the name from the glass dome I listen closely, hoping it isn't Ana.

"Ana-" My heart is pounding out of my chest. "-Clove," she finished. I see Annabelle's shoulder's relax a bit, and she turns around to hug me. "See that? It wasn't you," I whisper to her. She nods her head, and I feel her body shake with small sobs.

"Now, for the men," Effie calls. I take a deep breath, Ana still clinging to my shirt. Effie holds the slip in between her pointer and index finger, as if waiting for us to breakdown. She doesn't mean it that way though. She's just trying to spook us a bit. She opens the slip and reads clearly,

"_Alexander Miran!_"

Somehow I just knew it. I give Ana the largest hug I can possibly give without squishing her flat, and say, "I'll win... just for you, okay?" "Please," she whispers, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. I wipe her tears and say, "I will."

I walk away from her, looking back every now and then as I reach the platform. As I make it up the stage, Effie says, "Our District 1 tributes; Alexander Miran and Ana Clove! Shake hands you two!" Ana looks at me, studying me and I do the same to her. I hold out my hand, and she carefully takes it.

It's an awkward hand-shake, but it passes anyway. Effie smiles at us and leads us to the doors behind the giant screen. _May the Odds be Ever in your Favor_, my mind chants. _I will for you Annabelle_, I think.

As we get on the train, I wait for the chance to say my last goodbyes, and as I stare out the window, I realize my death lies ahead. I have to win.

_For Annabelle. _

**A/N: So, how did you like District 1's Reaping? I personally loved it! Some of you may question this, but everyone who died in the books DID NOT die in my scenario. I just need characters for this all to play out! :D hope that clears all confusion if at all there even was any? :)**


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